


your hands in mine

by isloremipsumafterall



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/pseuds/isloremipsumafterall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t go near the Hamiltons.” </p>
<p>“Don’t trust a Burr.” </p>
<p>Their fathers’ words echo in their heads, a permanency in their lives. </p>
<p>(or so they believe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	your hands in mine

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if violets are a flower big at the time but let's just chalk this up to fanfic leeway.

“Don’t go near the Hamiltons.” Her father said, voice stern instead of the usual affection it held when addressing her and Theodosia, while only eight at the time, nodded in understanding.

 

“Don’t trust a Burr.” His father said, pacing the living room with wild abandonment and other words on his lips, it’s one of the only things that day that sticks with Philip, who’s only nine, but knows his father’s means this.

 

Neither of them say anything when they stand next to their mothers and pass each other around town, all friendships between the two families lost and their fathers’ words echo in their heads, a permanency in their lives.

 

~~

 

When she was eleven she lost her mother; she remembers that day so clearly, wearing a black dress her father laid out for her with a sad look in his eyes.

 

There’s an unspoken truce in the air when even the Hamilton’s arrived to pay their respects, Theodosia sat in the corner not saying a word.

 

She hadn’t since her mother’s passing.

 

Unexpectedly Philip broke away from his family, cautiously stepping towards her. At twelve he looked to gawky, an unexpected growth spurt made him almost trip over his own feet but his face still held that boyish charm that might never leave.

 

“My sincere apologies.” Philip finally said once he made his way over and the hesitantly reached into his pocket to pull out a flower that had been crumpled in there.

 

She took it between her fingers, a delicate violet that had dared to survive where it shouldn’t have.

 

“Thank you.” She whispered quietly and Philip paused, wavering in front of her as if unsure whether or not he should leave.

 

The decision was taken from him at the call of his name and he looked at her one last time before walking away.

 

In the depths of her mind her father’s order played on but she quelled it; technically after all she hadn’t approached Philip Hamilton, he had come to her.

 

~~

 

Over the next few years Philip only saw Theodosia from afar; up until they were fifteen however he had been delivering flowers to her windowsill every few months.

 

Anyone could see that the loss of her mother was devastating and try as he might there was still a part of Philip that remembered the younger girl’s smile and was just trying to recreate that – something he blamed on the romantic aspects of his father and mother.

 

He stopped however when his own life was suddenly thrown into disarray at the publication of the Reynolds Pamphlet, even saying the title in his head made him feel sick.

 

His mother was despondent most of the time and angry the rest and Philip could not blame her, his own emotional state much the same.

 

For a week he chose to stay at a friend’s house in the town nearby, ignoring all calls.

 

When he returned home and walked into his room he froze.

 

There on his windowsill was a bouquet of violets.

 

It could have meant anything, perhaps pity; as he picked the bouquet up however he ignored the voice in his head that said it was a truce – that was too much trust for him to take right now.

 

~~

 

She heard about the duel from a friend and bit her tongue so as not to do something as unladylike such as curse the Hamilton’s name – no matter that she had plenty of words that she picked up from her father in that regard.

 

All childhood promises and rules flew out of her head and she marched herself down to house she heard Philip was staying at, asking for him once she reached the door.

 

“Theodosia?”

 

It had been years since she’d heard her name from his lips, surprising herself in the admittance that it sounded better coming from him.

 

As predicted he still had his boyish face, freckles mapped everywhere and his hair falling in waves and curls.

 

She took a deep breath, stilling herself so as not to let anger colour her voice but it still seeped through, “I have heard that you intend to duel Mr. Eacker. Tell me these are mere rumours and your fathers’ penchant for duels have not filtered down to you.”

 

The frown on his face looked out of place to the smile she’d gotten used to seeing, from so many steps away of course, it reminded her too much of the distraught face he wore five years ago, it wasn’t right and didn’t suit him.

 

“He insulted my father.” Philip began, his own anger building.

 

Theodosia in response rolled her eyes, “For heaven’s sake Philip your father is old enough to fight his own duels and often does, I know you feel the same affection for him as I do my father but you cannot have lost so much of your wit to see this is poor idea.”

 

Philip’s shoulder fell slightly at her reprimand.

 

“What would you have me do then?”

 

“What I believe you Hamilton’s do best,” Theodosia responded, with no malice in her voice, “Write your way out of this.” She reached out slowly, holding her hand towards his, “I can help if you wish.”

 

There was no hesitation when he took her hand, he nodded and led her inside.

 

“Then I shall trust you know best for this, Theodosia.” He was smiling again, a crooked pleased smile that made her heart speed up in her chest.

 

~~

 

“My father used to tell me not to go near a Hamilton.” Theodosia laughed, mostly to herself, “It is the only advice from him I have not taken.”

 

Philip leaned over in their shared bed, pressing a kiss to her neck, “I am grateful you chose to ignore it.”

 

He leaned back and grinned at her, “My father used to say not to trust a Burr.”

 

“And yet you put your life in my hands.”

 

He took said hands in between his own and raised them to his lips. “What a perfect choice I have made.”

 

She pulls him closer still again, the scent of violets fill the air in the vase next to the bed, flowers that for once they picked together.


End file.
